A Starchy Menace
Log Title: A Starchy Menace Characters: Cookie, Krista, various NPCs Location: Idaho Date: October 16, 2019 TP: Attack of the Killer Potatoes TP Summary: An Apple Harvest festival gets interrupted by a few vicious potatoes. Category:2019 Category:Attack of the Killer Potatoes TP Category:Logs As logged by '' Cookie '''It's a fine, crisp fall evening at the Bingham County Apple Festival. There are booths selling every variety of apple dessert, bounce houses, a gun raffle, and a stage where various groups have been performing most of the day. It's a pretty good turnout, but conversations tend to come back to the rash of mysterious deaths in the news.' The midweek attraction is a little Mister/little Miss Apple Harvest contest, which Krista, as a celebrity, has been invited to preside over. Mostly, this means opening envelopes, presenting awards, and looking cute with the kids for photos. Recently Krista has, as some stars occasionally do, made a break from mainstream Hollywood; instead, she had been optioned by a major subscription service to star in one of their most successful serial series. She, being one of the favored co-stars to the protagonists, has a fan-following of her own with all the trappings and crazies that come with such status. So, what brings her to an Apple Festival in BFIdaho? It is a touching story of visiting a child patient in Hospice, followed by a favor, which was further endorsed by her Publicist, Annie. So, there is a booth set up specifically for Miss Devereaux, and her presence has certainly drawn a crowed larger than this little festival is accustomed. But hey, the money earned goes to a good charity, so the young actress does not mind. She would also participate in the ceremonious aspects of this slice of Americana, and do so with a graciousness that could only come from the heart. Hersnnie, an older, heavy-bodied woman, was sitting in the back of the designated canopy, negotiating a Yeti water cooler. Jackson, Krista's able-bodied, retired Marine bodyguard, is standing to Krista's right, and just behind. Krista was seated behind a long table, which was littered with all of the trappings one would expect of such a booth - photographs, DVDs, pamphlets, and so forth. Cookie is at the apple festival because it's an apple festival, and she likes food. Also, to hear rumors. Mysterious deaths are trouble. Might as well see what's out there. She browses the celebrity table curiously. She's been slightly out of touch with that sort of thing lately. Plenty of other people are lined up for autographs. The line moves quickly enough, but comes to a halt when an older woman slips and falls, hitting the ground hard. Curses. Her one weakness! Er. Composite Santa notwithstanding, Jackson was the first to investigate, but he did not leave his post. Instead he would begin looking around, since enemy apples could be anywhere; he'll make communication with the local law dogs working the event as is protocol. Krista and Annie both stood up; the former leaned forward and to the side to get a better look, while the latter was quick to come to the edge of the table to gawk. If no one else in the crowd seemed to take control of the situation, Krista would go... right back down into her seat, 'assisted', as it were, by the strong hand of her Bodyguard. The starlet huffed and glared up at her protector; he was only doing his job, but she did not have to like it. Annie was under no such obligation, however, and should the lady in line need help, she would come to offer it. Local EMTs are in the area, which such a big event. A couple are quickly called over. It's easy enough for people to hear the woman. "There was a rock, and it rolled right out from under my feet!" She's injured enough that the EMTs move her just over to the side a bit, waiting for a Gator to come fetch her. Something sprained, probably. The dirt paths here could have rocks in them, but it's strange that one of them would be loose enough to roll. Cookie stays out of the way, but she does look around a bit for loose rocks. She doesn't find any near the path. Huh. Jackson would blame the apples. Ninja hide behind apples, and so do hobgoblins and grumpkins. Ahem. Anyway, Annie invites the EMTs to carry their patient under the shelter of Krista's tent, and when the celebrity does not object, Jackson becomes dismayed. How can he keep Krista safe if she's not behind towering concrete walls topped with razor wire and guard turrets?! He is not inclined to investigate, nor is he going to let his charge be worried about those things he came to notice unless said thing was out to do her harm. Annie is still fretting over the fallen woman. Krista had taken notice of Cookie, but it was in mere passing. As she lifted her pen to scrawl another autograph to for a grinning fanboi, she does take a gander down the path and trail that had captured the petite brunette's attention. It's a great PR move, as well as just a kind gesture to let the woman recover under the awning. She's not there long before Jackson, hovering around to try to keep his charge safe, feels a pretty firm *thunk* against a leg, as if somebody'd thrown an apple at him or something. But low. Cookie is looking in entirely the wrong direction to notice this, still inspecting the sides of the path. GRENADE! Or not. The player is suddenly reminded of a Looney Tunes 'Apple-Core?' skit. Anyway, Jackson scans down to the object, while Krista looks at Cookie looking the wrong way. Annie is still doling out kindness and fluff on Krista's behalf, as any good agent is wont to do. There's a small, round object on the ground near Jackson's feet. It's covered in dirt. It's an eyeball, isn't it. It's not an eyeball. It's too big to be an eyeball. Unless it's a cow's eyeball. Which.. why would a cow's eyeball be here? He, being a decorated Marine veteran, knows better than to touch, yet alone pick up an odd object flung at him from some random direction! He may step back and stoop just a hair to get a better look at it. Oh, if it's an eyeball... <3 Krista has now taken notice of Jackson's new paranoia, for it is palpable and means that some aspect of her life - usually, fun - is about to be curtailed 'for the sake of her safety'. She looks at him looking down, and then likewise turns her gaze to the dusty object. "...What is... that?" Said roundish object suddenly rolls away towards the apple barrels. It looks very rock-like. "Hells Bells!" exclaimed Jackson, who stepped back and slid his hand into his suit coat. His loud remonstrance was likely to draw the attention of other onlookers. Annie was now alert, but had been too slow to see it roll off. Krista, however, stood up so quickly that the chair upon which she sat toppled over; her legs got tangled with those of the seat, and so both she and the field stool ended up on the ground - it with a clatter, and she with an adorable squeak. Cookie looks up and jogs over, joining the crowd that's peering at the chaos within the tent. She gives Jackson a wary look, tugging her own jacket a bit so she can get at the concealed holster more easily if necessary. One of the EMTs helping the woman goes to assist Krista up. "Everything alright, miss? Anything injured?" Oh, Cookie. Do not eye Jackson too strongly, for he has also gone heeled and he may get suspicious. He is a good man, though, and concerned about his charge. Annie has gone into fretting mode, the maternal instincts she had slathered upon the other woman now being brought to Krista and metaphorically lain at the starlet's feet. The agent stooped down with the paramedic, Jackson stared off in the direction of the apple barrels, and Krista tried desperately to assure both the EMT and her retainer that she was, in fact, fine, if a little bruised on the shins. "That thing," she kept trying to tell them, "It rolled off that way." "What thing?" "That round thing. Jackson saw it roll off on its own." Jackson nodded, warily. "I think we have a prankster with a gyrosphere," is his opinion. Several people go to check out the direction Krista pointed. It's not long before there's a small scream and a couple of people are running away, one of them limping. If it's a prank, it's a mean one. That looks like it hurt. Cookie circles around, trying to see with all these other people here. This is, really, a security nightmare. Oh my. Jackson notifies the local LEOs via his earbud, and then, like the heroic man he was proud to be, took charge of his charge. Krista was snatched under her shoulder an hauled to her feet by her burly bodyguard. They, along with Annie, withdrew - he leading the way, Krista in the middle, and the Publicist behind. Away from the carnage and soon-to-be stampede is the direction the Bodyguard took, and toward any more solid and permanent fixture - like a generator bank, or cluster of rides, or something of that nature which afforded more protection than a tent. See, as a Bodyguard, you never fight with your client around. That's a good way to get into the unemployment line. A couple of trailers sit nearby with extra merch and treats for the VIPs. It's not as good as a building, but it's at least cover. The crowd wavers, some trying to get closer out of curiousity and others trying to get away. Cookie stays close, frustrated. She'd like to be able to react, but there's still too many people here to really see. While that would be a good place to hide, that cuts both ways. It would be difficult for him to clear a trailer with confidence should he need to leave Krista and Annie alone. He needs something akin a fenced enclosure with heavy things behind which the girls could hide, the back seat of a car, a bank of lockers, or something of that nature. The bounce houses are, in fact, inside a fenced enclosure. Parents pay to let their kids in. It's still not great cover, but it's enclosed. Kids run from one big air-filled playset to the next. There's no rides, but there's an area where there are antique tractors on display. That is much better. Bouncy houses! No, Krista. Tractors. Tractors can stop small caliber handguns. But I wanna... No. The Tractor display is where both Annie and the Actress are deposited, selecting the most tactical vantage Jackson can manage on short notice. The Publicist is given a quick and curt lesson in How Not to Be Seen, and then the Bodyguard stalks off to see if he can be of any use in quelling the human cattle. Security has, at least, managed to get people pushed back from the suspect apple barrels in case there's a bomb or some other nastiness involved. Not that anybody's dared to *say* 'bomb' yet, that would be really stupid. Unfortunately, this means that Cookie is pushed back with everybody else unless she wants to blow her cover. Explosives! That will be a fun headline when the Bomb Squad shows up to investigate. The Security Man does what he can under the guidance of the local Police. In the interim, Annie and Krista keep low behind bails of hay and antique metal behemoths. "What the hell is going on," the former whispered to the latter, the fear causing her voice to quiver. "I don't know," answered Krista, rattled, but not nearly as much as her companion. "It... rolled away and... detonated? I think? Jackson jerked me up and out before I could see what was going on, but there were people hurt. I remember that," she murmured in return. As Jackson is heading back to see what's going on, something hits him in the back, a cheap shot. Since it's away from where the crowd is gathered, Krista can see it really looks like a rock... that nobody threw. Seriously. There's nobody even close to where it came from. Ohnoes. Jackson is nailed between the shoulder blades, and given the circumstance... he literally tumbled forward to be well out of the way, and even took an extra vaulting dive to be behind whatever cover he could find. Pretty impressive for an older man in a suit, eh? Now, he KNOWS there was not a soul nearby, which means someone or something is really screwing with him. Going solely on modus operandi alone, he notified the authorities of his position... and out comes his .45 H&K. He keeps his other remarks to himself, but he's looking for, say... a rustle in the grass, or an unnatural eddy of dust. Keeping low, he began to make his way toward the food concourse. Back at the Branch, Krista had taken a seat upon the ground to lean up against a large tire, one lean leg drawn up to her chest so her arm may lay across it. Annie, the poor city educated college woman, was whimpering about having to sit in the dirt where all the bugs were! Cookie catches sight of the tumble and makes her way in *that* direction. Maybe there's more to see away from where the crowd's gathered Movement, there is. Not one, but two little dirty roundish things, rolling from opposite sides of the path to join forces and head towards the bodyguard. Jackson is not dumb. He's expecting some kind of super secret Cobra cloaking device that hides Ninja behind innocent looking apples. The man -does- have a pistol out, Laura, and he looks grimly determined in his quest to find apple fritters and funnel cakes, and not encounter any more of these rolly things. This is not only a tactically sound plan to dust-the-punk, but it is, hopefully, leading this invisible assailant away from his charge. He weaves as one would expect to elude the pair of peril pearls, and seeks to keep as many intervening objects between him in doing so to make pegging him in the back and tracking his pace a nearly impossible task. This may end in him accosting some poor festival worker with something like, 'I need your flour, your sugar, and your buckwheat.' GAME: Cookie PASSES an INTELLIGENCE roll of Average difficulty. Cookie takes note of somebody who's drawn. Okay, he's involved in one way or another. She fades but tracks his progress. She's no ninja- tackling this head on would probably be a mistake. But it's worth watching. Meanwhile, the little brown ovoids tumble after Jackson. They're surprisingly persistent, rolling along after him as if they're magnetically attracted, bouncing up from the ground a little. But luckily for Jackson, there's a funnel cake stand not long away, with lots of powdered sugar on hand. They're happy to hand some over to the gun-toting angry guy in a suit. Smart Cookie. Snerk. Anyway, Jackson will do his best to cajole the tent workers without much fanfare or ceremony. All he really has to do is point his weapon down-range toward his steely, stoic pursuers and advise, 'Rolling Bombs, Run,' before he is vaulting over the counter. This is both to put the booth between him and the rabbit pellets of doom, but to drive home his point that he ISN'T KIDDING. A bag of whole wheat, enriched flour is snatched from the shelves and then he is out the back as quick as a shot; if the employees decide to follow his suggestion is not really his concern, although he would feel bad if, say, they get 'sploded. It was time that he made his way to the main thoroughfare, and is likely to pass Cookie coming the other way. In this case, a firm but polite, 'S'cuse me, coming through!' is all the courtesy he offered. Jackson has said the magic word! Screams erupt and people are practically knocking each other over to get away. But for all of those people trying to get the hell out of the festival area, there's a handful that don't. Guns come out, people go for cover. It's a rural town- carrying is just common sense when cops are sometimes an hour or more away. Cookie is happy to get out of the way of the big guy. She's tiny in comparison, and she can spot an ex-marine a mile away. It's a Navy thing. So she gets a front row seat to the two brown objects bouncing after him. There's a clear firing lane at last- the closest person is herself at the moment. So she takes a shot at one. GAME: Cookie PASSES a DEXTERITY roll of Average difficulty. *BLAM* One of the orbs is damply splatted and stops moving. Its interior is pale, almost white. The other.. keeps chasing Jackson? Who the hell is shooting...? Ah, well. Jackson was far enough away to only hear the shot, but not see its results. At any rate, the man and his bag of flour was bound for the concourse, and that's when things get odd. Well, more odd than they already were. Jarhead Jackson, being of sound mind and body, needed to locate another aspect of his plan - something upon which he could climb to command a view of the intersection. This is imperative, since this would be what he thought the only way to get the Tosser of Rondures to take another pot-shot. This is also to test a theory - let's see if these things can climb? Cookie goes over to the splatted orb, gun still at the ready. It's.. a potato. The starchy Russet kind you can find in stores all year round. Makes great french fries. She nudges the most intact part with a foot. It does not move. Meanwhile, the orb chases Jackson while Jackson looks for a high spot. At this point, the bandstand probably has the most commanding view. There's some guy up there singing Country songs at the moment, but it's otherwise clear. BUAHAHAHAhem. Never could trust those round, red Idaho taters. Anyway, Jackson still has no idea that he is pursued by evil tubers, so... up onto the stage he goes. Gun still in one hand, bag of Gold Medal flour in the other. The fellow scampers up the rear stage steps, trips, and ends up... bursting the bag of enriched white goodness. It is a very good thing that he received proper training when running with a loaded weapon by a particularly colorful drill instructor: KEEP YOUR BOOGER HOOK OFF THE TRIGGER. His pointer finger was thankfully indexed outside the trigger guard, otherwise, sympathetic grip would have caused a discharge thereabout the drummer's back. Oh. And he chips a tooth. The performer is startled, the performance coming to a halt as it's interrupted. The potato chases right up the steps, bouncing like it has a spring inside. Nobody seems to think the potato is a threat- the 'bomb' panic hasn't quite reached here yet. So a couple of people go over to help Jackson up and ask if he's alright. Cookie looks around, finds a food stand that's been abandoned, and grabs some aluminum foil. She goes back and uses it to pick up and wrap a couple of pieces of potato. There are generally forced air fans up on stage to keep the performers cool under the stage lights, so it is safe to say that the poor drummer - and likely the rest of the band - are at least breaded enough to be deep fried. Stunned by the shot he took to the chin because of his unfortunate slip, it took Jackson a precious few seconds to come to his senses. Then he remembered... he was being pursued by... a "Bomb. ...There's a rolling bomb...?" It's probably right ---------------> there, Jackson. Looking ominous. ''' '''Meanwhile, Krista and Annie begin to grow impatient... Said "bomb" is right behind him. Rolling slowly closer. You can almost hear the Jaws music. Except Jackson said "Bomb," and so now people are fleeing the bandstand. It's just Jackson left to face... the potato. Do not fire until you see the ? gray of its eyes...? Jackson does what any self respecting Marine would do under this circumstance - pistolwhip the little bastard and hope to knock it away! The potato isn't very good at dodging... but just hitting it doesn't splat it. It rolls back in, faster, coming to jump on the bodyguard's legs. Back, back foul spud! Jackson only needed a little breathing room; he had turned a little so he might bring his pistol to bear. He lined up a shot, and squeezed the trigger! His face grimaced, as if expecting this to be his last day on earth....! ''' '''Back at the tractors, Krista finally stands upright. "...I think I'm going back to the RV to wait on Mr. Buzzkill." Annie fretted. She pleaded with the starlet to remain where she was, the actress would have no more waiting in the straw. She made her egress from the exhibit, and Annie scrabbled after. *SPLAT!* It bursts into starchy fragments and fall and lie still. Meanwhile, Cookie notices the starlet and heads that way. "Are you okay?" she asks Krista, tucking the wrapped up potato pieces in her pocket. "..." The flour-dusted Jackson had remained in that cover-fire position well after the resounding thunder of his .45 died away. His chin hurt. His body ached. Hell, all of him suffered some pangs. His eye unsquinted. He tipped the firearm just so he might look unimpeded down the slide rail. "...What the actual... ...is that... No. Nooooo, no." Meanwhile, the dusty actress and her panting publicist both turn; the latter was a wreck of mussed makeup and fallen hair, while the former was only enhanced by the smattering of grime that smeared her otherwise polished poise. "...I am, thank you," she offered, gently - even sweetly, punctuated with a vintage Hollywood smile. "...Do you... know what happened, Miss?" Cookie ahs. "Not... really? I'm not sure I even believe what I saw," she says honestly. "I think I'm going to go compare notes with some other people before I tell any authorities." She shakes her head. "They've got a cordon going over there," she points. "Should be safe. I'm going to head home." Log session ending at 23:13:22 on Wednesday, 16 October 2019.